Creepypasta Short Stories
by Shadow-Cipher
Summary: Something I did for fun on another website. I would just casually write short stories based on Creepypasta characters. People could be as specific or blunt as they wanted about what I would write. I'll still do that. Got nothing better to do. Couldn't think of a better category than mythology.
1. Eyes of a Killer

My eyes flicker as bodies swarm through the streets, many figures hustling through the chaos in a hearty attempt to make their way anywhere else. This was not a popular place to lurk, it seemed - well, not popular for most. Me? I liked it here. As I kept myself expertly hidden in the shadows and watched the many people rush by, I felt happy. I was satisfied with my place in this world.

Yet, these people were of little interest to me. They were all but a minimal amusement, something that was fun to watch for a short while, but elongated observation was hardly my style. I needed action; I needed some fun. There had to be someone worth giving the time of day. The question was, who?

I preferred not too old. Elderly people were little challenge. It was like trying to capture a rock - hardly any effort whatsoever. Adults were dull and they were a dime a dozen. Adults were too alert and you didn't get that same flashing terror or foolish brazen bravery you did with the younger generation. Yet, it was also dull to go too young. The really little ones were too curious and it took them a fleeting moment longer to realize there was a threat, and they responded poorly. I needed perhaps a teen, someone who would be interested, but wary, aloof, but attentive.

There were plenty interesting bodies piecing through the crowds, but choosing a target was a matter not to be taken in small matters and I wanted a thrill. I would find someone who would shudder in my visage. I felt a certain dullness begin to grip me, and I disliked such feelings.

I lowered my gaze, shifted my figure a trifle. I still kept myself hidden. These people, in their quest for existence, misunderstood much and overlooked the same amount. To eyes such as mine, my place of concealment was poor, uncreative. Had I been in their paths, lulling through the crowd - although what crowd would I pass through without cutting a few of them up - I would have spotted a figure hidden in this location instantly. I was, to my eyes, highly conspicuous. These people were so driven down by the droll and repetitive actions of their life that they overlooked clear details, saw no flaw in the strange. All they saw were objects, things they saw all their life, and thus they searched no further.

Then, there was a pause in the crowd. A female, easily teenage years, and shorter then the rest, she hesitated. I deviated a bit from my position, drawing my hand forward and curling my fingers around the edge of the garbage crate which I hid behind. My eyes flashed as the female stared directly at me. Her strong green eyes lingered on my figure for no more then three seconds, but there was no denying it, she had noticed me. While people of an unsurpassable quantity blissfully ignored my existence, she noted it. I saw the flash before she turned her eyes away. She was worried, suspicious, perhaps. She noted me and she wondered what I was doing.

Happiness formed within as she picked up the pace. Interesting one, that girl. What did she fully make of me? I wanted to know. I knew what I made of her.

As I knew the general public would not be kindly taken to a person such as myself for long, and I wanted to keep to the girl without being pestered, I made myself vanish deeper into the shadows of a narrow and foul alleyway. It smelled of death, although not the kind I preferred to inflict.

Quickly as I could, I dodged through the alleys, my feet tapping rapidly on the pavement below as I made haste to catch the girl once again. My hand fell to my waste as I peered around a corner, fingers curving over my weapon. I felt a certain joy to touch such a useful tool, to think about and consider its imminent use, the blood it would soon taste.

There she was. She turned the corner not more then a few seconds after I made to look. I shied back a little, yet thrill was the only feeling that gripped me with its elongated fingers as she hustled past. She failed to see me, but I saw her.

It was quieter, and got more so as she continued on. I kept within the series of alleys as she moved into the more reserved parts of the city. I saw a reticent look in her eyes as she turned on to another road, loneliest road she had taken thus far.

Quickly did I hasten out of the alleyway, moving with purpose in the female's direction. I kept mt pace steady, slow enough to where I would keep well behind her, but not so much to where I would not exist should she turn around. I wanted to see how long I could play this game with her, how long she would allow me to hold this position before checking, before realizing she was not quite as alone as she would have liked to be. I could hear my own footsteps echo on the pavement below, and hers were just a little off-key with mine. It was only a matter of time before he ears caught this information, realized the steps did not quite match. Then, she would check. She would search for the unwanted guest, and she would find him. I slowed a trifle, but the excitement, the nagging curiosity of when she would look, it only increased its pace.

Then, she came to a stop. There was a nervous twitch in her system as it registered something was amiss. Her head turned and immediately fear flickered into her eyes as they met my figure.

She staggered back uncertainly, stricken by a mixture of fear and worry as she tried to calculate what to do about my presence. "W-Who are you?" she asked nervously. Rookie mistake.

I flashed her an expert grin. "I don't know, hun. Who do you want me to be?" I responded.

She was taken aback by my answer. I could see it in her eyes among the fear. "I shouldn't be talking to you." she muttered nervously, her gaze flickering downwards a little, as if she were appalled to look at me for a moment longer.

"Hold on." I said, not calling it with a yell, but being firm nonetheless. She was halfway in a turn when abruptly she stopped, glancing at me for half a second before looking away. "Who told you that you shouldn't talk to me? Where I come from, I'm the life of the party. Ok, well, actually Jack is technically the life of the party, but when he's away on business, its me who takes over. People will kill to get a chance to talk to me... literally! Or was it the other way around? I tend to get that part mixed up."

"L-Look, I'm sure you're a lovely guy - who hangs out in dark alleys - but I have th-things I need to do. I can't be late for my appointment and all, so I should go." she mumbled nervously.

An appointment. That was a very weak cover, a facade that would only fool the most clueless of minds. I may have been a tad on the psychotic side, but sometimes the ones with a crack in the side of the head were the greatest artists, the minds the world lusted to be like. They simply failed to understand the roots of our creativity, what forces drive us to such a spark. Nonetheless, I had a retaliation for such a poor excuse. "I could take you there. I know these back paths better then anyone else. Bet I could find you a much quicker path then you had in mind."

"No thanks. I'll be fine." she replied doggedly.

She diverted her gaze once more and it was at this point I could no longer ignore it. I had been slowly building anger with each time she refused to look at me and every occasion where she refused to meet my eyes was another drop of wine in the fire. She had given it one too many chances, and a blaze rose into the night sky with a flash.

I reached down, quickly drawing my blade as my eyes flashed with fury. She had little time to react, for I pounced her like a fierce panther, the prowess of the hunter in my step and the fury in my motions. I dominated her easily, snatching her in my grasp and thrusting her against a nearby house. With equal speed I brought my blade to her neck, gently touching the blade to her fragile skin. I could hear my fragile heat pounding rapidly in her chest, and her hand twitched violently as she attempted to get a grasp on the threat at hand. I could feel her tremble, and it made my heart glow. "Why won't you look at me!?" I howled fiercely, the cool exterior I earlier exhibited vanishing without a known trace. "Is there something wrong with my face? Am I not good enough for you?"

"N-No... there's nothing wrong with you..." she muttered nervously, but I knew. I knew better. She still wouldn't look at me. She was afraid, but perhaps of the wrong thing.

"Really?" I asked with a sadistic purr, drawing my blade slowly over her skin. "Then tell me, why will you still not look at me!?" I jerked my blade quickly, not quite cutting her, but convincing her for half a second I was going to. "Look at me, girl! Look at me or I will cut you open - carve you like the cattle you are!"

She wouldn't look. No matter how often I howled at her, no matter what threats I threw her way, she would not look. She was terrified, oh yes - she just wasn't terrified correctly, that's all. She wanted to look away, but I wanted her to look. I was lying, of course. I would cut her either way. But I wanted her to be looking at me when my blade claimed her. It would be all the more sweet to see that burning light in her eyes fade.

"Look at me! Look!" I ordered aggressively. I drew back my blade and thrust the point into her shoulder-blade, twisting it on its side to cut deeper. Blood trickled at first, but as I twisted the blade, it began to flow far more vigorously. Excitement welled in me; I yearned for more. "Do you like this?"

I could feel her attempting to struggle in my grasp, but all she was truly doing was helping my cause, tearing herself apart more, and as she tried to achieve freedom, she bled more fiercely, and I loved it. "N-No! Of course not!"

I screeched, "Then look at me!" But she would not look.

So I thrust my blade from her body and lunged into her once again. I struck with precision a number of time, my knife penetrating her painfully, drawing forth plentiful amounts of that thick crimson liquid I had come to fancy so much, but I did not strike to kill. I released each lash with the intent to draw forth suffering she had never felt before, and as she flailed and bled and cried and plead, I felt only a rising thrill, and satisfaction. She tried to grab my arm, to hold me back, but a single jerk of the arm was enough to release her weak grasp. As I drew my knife back to strike again, this time in the chest - I would not hit the heart, of course; I didn't want to kill her yet - she managed to grab my wrist with both her hands and I hesitated as I saw the pleading look in her eyes and she looked into mine, sobbing, "Please... stop."

I relented now. She looked at me. Her eyes gazed into mine and I felt satisfaction. I shoved her forcefully and backed away from her, and she collapsed to the ground, blood sticking to her hands as it had fled from her body. She panted weakly. She would live... assuming nothing else attacked her. Shame, that one.

I stepped closer to her, hovering over her body, my figure positively terrifying. She shivered, then it intensified as she saw me above her, a fierce glow in my eyes.

"Wh-What?" she sobbed weakly, looking once more straight at me. There was much hesitation, but still she looked. Her heart escalated once more as I moved towards her, blood dripping off my knife as I moved it purposefully towards her. "I looked at you! You said to look at you and I did!"

I placed a hand on her chest, willingly her to the ground once more with the minimum pressure required. I tilted my head, a psychotic bliss highlighted in my every facial feature. "Yes, you did. And I thank you for that. It will be far more satisfying to watch you die if I have seen the hope your eyes held before they forever lose them."

As soon as the threat was released, she struggled wildly in my grasp. She was weak, though, not that it would've taken much effort to keep her struggles at bay even before I drew much of her strength away. A single hand was more then enough to ignore her attempt to escape me. She wasn't going to escape. I knew it... and somewhere within, she knew it. My knife loomed over her menacingly, poised to claim yet another victim, to add to its count. She stilled as I held a hand to her lips and grinned at her. My eyes burrowed into hers and nestled in for the night, and I then purred to her, "Go to sleep."


	2. Blinded

_Do you know what life is like without your eyes?_

* * *

Eyeless Jack had been alone for a while now, scavenging the area with a fierce desire to seek what was clearly not there. While most of his mind sharply barked at him that this excursion had no purpose, no conclusion, and was thus a waste of valuable time, there had to be some degree of argument from Eyeless Jack himself. It was comical, to hear your mind tell you that your time is being wasted and yet to feel a part of you that wishes to dispute this further. Was he truly arguing with himself? Had Eyeless Jack gone mad? Ha! To be one with the world which he scoured, you must already be mad - but madness as a good thing in his world, a trait coveted by all.

The forest was a place that was checkered with so much life, and yet that was why it was still, lifeless, like a body without a pulse. Trees towered in the sky and birds chirped, blissfully unaware of exactly who they were dedicating this symphony to, and it was nothing of interest to him. This was not life, it was just a mockery of it. Not the Eyeless Jack was extremely fond of life. Life was a twitchy source, an easily breakable vase balanced on a small ledge. One wrong move and it came tumbling down. Sometimes there were vases that needed to be broken, though.

Not always was the Eyeless killer without a companion. He recalled fondly the days of skulking through the shadows with a companion, another just as mad - and thus just as sane - as him trailing close behind, desperately attempting to keep pace, and never straying from where he stepped. He would stop and show her something, and she would smile at him.

Nearby was a mysterious statue, perhaps something placed deep within the woods by that which truly staked its claim over it, or mayhap it was total nonsense. There were some questions forever unanswered, more than he liked.

The statue was an artifact recalled by Eyeless Jack, and back when he had first come upon it, he had been stricken by its grace, its presence, the way it voiced its existence loud and proud, yet had no reason to be. It did not need to exist, yet it chose to anyways. The statue was of a large stag, majestic in its glory, but torn, damaged. The creature's right antler has been savagely ripped apart, some cruel figure deeming the statue too glorious and thus tearing into it to forever tarnish it. Yet, even as its most prominent feature was forever tarnished, the stag still stood strong. One hoof was pushed forward and its eyes seemed to glow with pride - which you could imagine would be hard to do when you're made of stone - and its chest was puffed out. Arrogance was the wrong word, but instead the stag had dignity, and honour. Yet the creature which one filled Eyeless Jack with so much lust now enraged him. He never wanted to look at it again, for it was a reminder, but he could not convince his gaze to falter. Even without eyes, he could still see the stag, in its infuriating glory. Damned creature.

It was not so much the stag itself that brought force his inner ferocity, but memories of when he was last nearby, her specifically. He had brought her to see the stag, believing she would cherish it as he did. He had adored it, its pride, the way it sought your envy, and its very beauty. He had scampered through the forest that night, ushering her to come with him, and she had been willing.

When he has approached the statue, she skittered up from behind and paused, staring at the stag with an unreadable look. The only emotion Eyeless Jack could define from her was shock and it didn't translate properly. He flashed a hopeful look her way and she merely turned to him and asked why the stag was missing an antler.

Eyeless Jack did not take that as hostile, and merely attempting to explain it had been this way when he found it. He attempted to continue with the same notions presented prior, the beauty, the grace, the pride the stag still held despite missing its most cherished cosmetic.

She did not respond well. She instead insisted the stag was hideous. She said that the stag could no longer be proud of itself because it was missing something so very important to its form. She said that all stags needed antlers, large and perfectly constructed ones, and that those without them were strange, incorrect. They were, in her eyes, an affront to nature, and as such this stag statue appealed the same. Without its antlers, the stag was wrong.

It was at that moment Eyeless Jack felt himself bristle. He failed to see why the stag was still not beautiful. Yes, it was missing a large chunk of its antler, but it still saw itself as beautiful and despite its flaw, it should still be perceived as such. So with a harsher-then-intended tone, Eyeless Jack asked if there was anything wrong with him. She seemed to be caught unaware by this - she clearly did not know what he was implying - and asked what he meant. He was perfect. Eyeless Jack laughed, cruelly, and startled her. He asked her if he was so perfect without eyes and she failed to see why this mattered. Eyeless Jack released a dark hiss, and smiled a little. He told her that the average person has eyes and that like the stag, he was flawed because he did not have them. He asked again if there was anything wrong with him, and when he once more replied no, he accused her of being biased and left.

He had not seen her since that day, and it was depressing to think such a thing. He wanted to see her just one more time, to speak with her, to patch the quilt that had been so fiercely torn. The argument had ended far too abruptly that day, painful, and Eyeless Jack needed to revisit it. Once more. Just once. Please.

That was secretly why he ventured out here - or maybe it wasn't - to finish what had started. Eyeless Jack had began reading the final chapter, but then someone had ripped the book from his hand, just before he could read the last few pages. No story, good or bad, could be left unfinished. Even if the ended was laughable, Eyeless Jack had to know it. He yearned for this information more then anything, but was unlikely to receive it.

Perhaps time was being wasted. Eyeless Jack had work to do - very important work, thank you very much - and lulling around a darkly forest clearly wasn't going to make progress in it. His supplies were low, and Eyeless Jack would be damned if he was going to increase he palate now. Clearly his parents had failed to teach him to be willing to try new things - or maybe he was just a disobedient little child adamantly refusing anything even remotely new. Regardless, he wasn't going to change now. With the thought of food in his head, he instinctively reached for the scalpel at his side, moving his skin slowly over the blade as not to cut himself. He wrapped his fingers around it and brought it up to his eyes. Average eyes would've thought the blade to be virgin, never tasting flesh, but that was not true. It had just been a while since it had been given a chance to feed, and like Eyeless Jack, it was starving.

Eyeless Jack had not even taken a full step - even a half step was not yet in motion - when his train of thought was interrupted. It wasn't so much a large interruption, not another train slamming into the side. No, it was more like a dog had thrown its body against the car. Distracting, maybe startling if you were watching the correct location at the precise time, but hardly something everyone would notice. Except, Eyeless Jack saw this dog, or rather, he heard it.

"Jack?" A voice had said his name. It was quiet, and some might have overlooked it. Not Eyeless Jack, though. To him, his name was spoken loud and clear, and by a voice he assumed he misheard.

Yet when he turned his attention up it was not so. There she was, beautiful, alive, standing in front of him and near the stag, and looking at him. Her eyes were beautiful, glowing green, and he remembered how long he had spent staring into them like a fool. She was here, with him.

"What are you doing here?" Eyeless Jack asked, taken aback by the meeting he assumed would never happen. He had just about given up looking for her, and now she had come to him.

Eyeless Jack was disconcerted further when she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him. She was sharp, strong, but did not strangle him. When he pictured a meeting with her once more in his head - although it was more like a full motion film in his eyes - he had never intertwined a scene where she hugged him. He did not believe she would be so forthcoming, so loving. It was like that night had never happened. It was like she loved him again. After a few moments, Eyeless Jack returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling against her shoulder. The embrace was long and warm, but was eventually broken.

She looked up at him with her bright eyes as the hug ended. He could see no ill intent within them, and Eyeless Jack knew that glow well. She appeared fully sincere.

"Jack, I've been trying to find you for so long. I couldn't remember where this forest was, I couldn't, but I remembered tonight. I've been desperately trying to find you." she explained to him, quick, a tad emotional, but every word rang sincere in his ears. It seemed she was not expecting to make much headway in her journey.

"I was looking for you too." Eyeless Jack said bluntly. It was not so much an admittance rather the statement of a fact. He said it out loud, and there was nothing more to it.

Joy flickered through her gaze upon hearing Eyeless Jack had been searching for her as well. She felt hope, a chance to speak with him. "Jack, I wanted to talk about what happened that night... here." She needed not go into detail, and that was for the better. No one needed a reminder of that. It would be very bad. "I feel like we... we were too abrupt. We didn't solve anything. We just had half an argument, and stopped, and we never found a resolution. We didn't make up. We need to revisit that night, Jack, and we need to solve it."

"I agree." Eyeless Jack answered. Even though the lack of emotion in the response was powerful, it was overlooked, whether on purpose or accident would never be known.

She seemed happy about this as well, having most likely assumed Eyeless Jack would adamantly avoid such a debate. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!"

"First, I need to ask you something." Eyeless Jack interrupted coldly. His attention was on her, although without eyes it was challenging to deduce what he was focusing on. "Do you think I'm perfect?"

She was caught off guard by his question, it was clear in her eyes. He waited for her interpretation, her response. He felt eager to see how her words would guide her. Would she weave through the cones, or knock or over? "Yes. I mean... I mean, no one's perfect. I don't mean you're perfect. Everyone has flaws. However, you are a wonderful guy, and you're perfect in my vision." Perhaps he shouldn't have laughed here.

"So I'm flawed?" Eyeless Jack pushed, trying his best to hide the snark, the growl, to keep himself appearing a tame dog who would surely not bite should the leash be unhooked.

"Technically, yes, but not in a bad way." she replied. From his view, she was beginning to find these questions difficult. They were disorienting her quite a bit. She would mess up, create an error, fail, and when she did, he would call her out on it. "Like I said, we all have flaws, but you don't have anything major. Its just little quirks that aren't so much wrong as just misunderstood. I like you regardless, Jack. Whatever your personality is, I like you."

With a cold shake of the head, Eyeless Jack responded, "That isn't quite what I meant."

"I don't follow." she answered nervously. This much was already evident.

Eyeless Jack took a step forward. "I meant physically. Am I physically flawed? Am I abnormal, strange? Is something wrong with me physically?" He couldn't help but grin, awaiting her answer, awaiting the error, awaiting the miscalculation in judgment he could call her out on. He awaited it all on the tips of his toes and with bated breath.

"What are you...? Are you still...?" Finish your sentence, girl. Finish it. Tell me I'm not flawed. Tell me I'm perfect. Tell me I'm not a fault in the laws of nature. "Jack, no, you're-"

"Hypocrite!" Eyeless Jack howled at her before she could finish.

"Jack...! I...!" she attempted.

"Be quiet!" barked Eyeless Jack, giving no chance for further thoughts, for her to defend herself. "You are such a liar." He yelled no more, but the dark manner in which his voice echoed out of his mouth was no kinder. "That long time ago you told me the stag was flawed because he didn't have his antlers, backed up by the notion the antlers are common for his kind. When I asked you if I was flawed because I didn't have eyes, you told me I wasn't - but why am I not? I am, to some degree, human; I'm human-like, anyways. A known trait of the species is eyes, yet I am not flawed because I don't have them." She tried to speak, but he would not let her. "So what you're telling me is humans don't need eyes? They aren't a staple of the race, according to you anyways. Humans don't have eyes. Eyeless humans are normal. Then perhaps you'd like to be eyeless too? After all, it's normal!"

She backed up nervously as Eyeless Jack lifted up his scalpel a little, staring into the shimmering blade. "Jack... no! I'm sorry, Jack! It's strange! Ok, Jack, it's very strange! It's strange you don't have eyes!"

Eyeless Jack responded poorly. "Oh, so now I'm strange? Now I'm not good enough for you? Good. Good. I'm glad we had this talk." He strongly seized her, holding her tight. "So, tell me one last time. Your answer is very important here. Is my lack of eyes strange to you?"

After several painful moments of pointless quivering, she cried uncertainly, "N-No?"

Interesting. "Really? Good to know. Then you won't miss these." Eyeless Jack hummed.

The action was of a pain incapable of proper description, but the cruel act was able to be explained nonetheless. Eyeless Jack lifted up his scalpel, excitement rushing through his system, and he moved it towards her face. She sobbed loudly as he moved towards her and he held her rigid as he began forcing the small blade underneath her left eye. A thick and thoroughly damp liquid began to careen out from the opening and roll down her face as he dug into the depths of the socket. He kept his work slow, precise, and removed each nerve and muscle which kept the eye connected. He worked with a surgeon's precision and care, but with a far less loving intent. The howls she released as he performed his work would be horrifying to most, but were normal for him, an experience he had been through many times. It was unnecessarily slow as he carved out her eye like a Jack-O-Lantern, and the fun was only half over, because he got to reply the entire scene on her second eye. He made a mess of her as he worked to cut out the second eye, and with a subtle shift out the scalpel, he pulled the right eye out. He held it in his hand for a few moments before dropping it. Her eyes were still beautiful, even when carved out of her skull. He then released her.

She collapsed, quivering and sobbing, as soon as he no longer held her. "It's so dark... It's so dark..." She repeated this over and over. Eyeless Jack shifted and she moved her head up. Still trying to look around. Adorable. "Jack?" Eyeless Jack said nothing. "Jack? Where are you? Jack?" She lowered her head. "It's so dark. Where am I? It's so dark."

"This is what life is like with no eyes, hun. For you, anyways. Me? I can still see."


	3. Eight

I'm not naturally a coward. Everyone has a couple things that gets them, but to say I am, by nature, afraid, would be fairly wrong. I can be scared, yes, but it is not a natural reaction. When a threat turns its burning gaze on my figure, I am first to stand my ground, to walk towards that which others would flee from. Far as it seems, fear is a weakness that impedes us, something that causes us to avoid the unknown. Yet, it is that which we do not understand that hides all the secrets. The world challenges us, dares us to seek its unknown. Most of us will flee, flee from that which might do us harm. I fear not the unknown; I seek it. I seek its truths, its answers, the knowledge it surely holds. Fear is what keeps us from the treasure at the end of the road. I am not afraid. I will not be afraid. You cannot scare me.  
It is likely this view that lead me to the venture I chose to partake in late this evening. Looming in front of me were just a few measly trees, but if one were to cast their eye further, they would surely find far more. These few trees, standing brazenly in front of me, were nothing but a precursor to the woodlands which lurked further ahead. Deep within those trees was a secret, I was sure of it, and like a nosy reporter, I was going to unearth it.  
I progressed forward at a casual rate, an increasing rate of trees glimmering into my vision. Slowly a few of them turned into the many I was expecting, and a forest greeted me with silence. Aside from a low hum riding on the wind, there was not a sound to be heard. It was like the forest was attempting to dismay me, to convince me nothing was around. Perhaps the trees - and whatever else lurked within - thought that if they stayed quiet enough, I would believe them to be innocent, believe them to not be the keepers of secrets unknown. I was not a fool, and thus I moved on.  
As I stepped between the trees, and the moon's light was blocked by the thick of leaves, a crunching met my ears. My feet snapped twigs and tore leaves, creating sound, and as the sound began, more were awakened. Upon realizing an avid explorer had approach the forest in search of what it held, the forest awoke. It was shy, like a young child meeting a stranger for the first time, but branches began to rustle and crickets nervously cautioned at a few chirps as the forest realized it had found one, a person who would seek its secrets. It was greeting me.  
The forest appeared to be covered by darkness, but I could see through its fog. Though mostly blocked out, the leaves still allowed a bit of moonlight to struggle in, and its rays flecked the forest floor. With these lines of glowing specks, I could see as much as I needed.  
What I wondered most, though, was why people were so adamant about avoiding this place. I asked many people what was here - assumed there was an angry pack of vicious animals or something - but the way people described it, it surely didn't sound quite so. It was out there, whatever it was, but none would tell. It was like they signed a contract to this mystery, agreeing to never reveal it. I asked if it was animal and I asked if it was man. According to those who answered me, it is both, and it is also neither. My interest was already peeked.  
I wandered with ease, keeping my attention strong, alert, and my senses prepared to respond to anything even remotely out of the ordinary. I felt that sense of adventure with every step I took further from the outside world. There was something unknown here, and I felt strongly that even those who warned me from it did not know what it truly was. I would know. The knowledge would be mine.  
Sounds moved in and out of range, but none of it was particularly odd to hear within a forest. At first, they came far more often then they went. Anything from the hoots of a curious owl to the clunk of a nut falling from a tree revealed itself to me, but soon they faltered. Instead of these common forest noises coming, they left, quickly. The animals silenced first. Owls lost interest in what they sought, crickets refused to share their tunes with me any longer. It was almost as though I had crossed an unknown threshold that turned everything off.  
There was a rustle, and I would have pushed it off as nothing, had it sounded like leaves. The wind released a very low hum, and rising upon its back, firmly gripping the reigns, was the rustling of paper. It was feint, but I heard it nonetheless, my ears alerting me to the new variable. I turned my head, and moved towards it.  
After no more than thirty seconds of looking, I found it. There was indeed a sheet of paper nearby, stuck firmly to a strange thin tree. The tree had a trunk that hardly existed, but its leaves were thick and prominent, branches far more numerous then such a small trunk could surely support.  
I moved towards the sheet of paper, placing a hand on the edge of the narrow tree's trunk as I attempted to scan what it discerned to me. There was only a little bit of writing on the paper, scrawled in a messy handwriting. I wanted to denote that whoever wrote it was in a hurry, but what it said would have debunked that theory.

 _Look into the shadows..._

Most people would have reacted to that by skittishly turning their eyes to the darkest area around, searching frantically for the certain terror that was near. Instead, I was only curious. Someone had placed this here for unknown reasons, and I was uncertain about why. Who they wanted to find it and how badly they yearned for it to be found were also factors I had yet to discover. Most would assume this was meant to scare people, but I believed it to be more of a guide. I would not run from the shadows. I would walk into them. That was where the answers were. I knew it.  
I hesitated first, though, for I realized something fairly trivial, something the average person would have overlooked - I mean, who spends copious amounts of time staring at a sheet of old paper stuck to a tree? There was no rational explanation for how this was actually stuck here. Nothing was holding the paper in place. There was nothing stabbed through it and into the tree, and nothing sticky seemed to be coating its backside. It remained held by seemingly nothing.  
This information only interested me more. What kind of unknown powers had I found, and what other uses would they have? I grabbed the paper fiercely in my grasp and tore it down. The paper showed no signs of resistance, no signals that anything was keeping it there, and came with me willingly. I wasn't sure why, but I had a feeling I would want to keep this.  
My eyes scanned around, searching for the dark most would avoid, and I moved towards it. I forced my way into the eerie blackness with not even a shiver. There was nothing to fear. Only answers existed, regardless of how much of a challenge they may be to find.  
A dim glow pierced through the dark. It was a challenge to notice at first, as it would most likely to be taken as moonlight flecks, but I noted the slight difference in intensity, and moved towards it. There was, ahead of me, and stake thrust into the ground, a flame struggling to stay alive on top of it. A slightly shorter stake was jabbed into the ground less than a foot away, and yet another sheet of paper was stuck to it.  
I approach, naturally, and with apt precision moved to claim it as my own. I claimed it before I even read it. Nothing held it again, seemingly nothing, anyways. It came just as willingly. Had I been intended to find this one as well? I then lifted it up, and read it.

 _Do you ever feel like you're being watched?_

I felt a very brief hesitation in my breath, but just as quickly as I paused did I relent, and exhaled with a small chuckle. This was clearly a threat - that's what most would say. It still appealed to me as a distraction, and test to see who would flee and who would push ahead. I was being tested, by something, by someone. For all I knew, that which wrote the test might not even be around, but if that was so, I would find what it once lead to.  
I glanced back once, into the piercing black, then shook my head and continued ahead, making my way behind the glowing torch.  
The journey was silent, quieter then it had been before. Even the sounds of crunching leaves I had come to know had abandoned me, favoured by a road of tossed dirt. I kept my eyes trained on the surrounding, looking deep into the weak spots of moonlight for anything strange. Were there going to be more of these pages?  
The area grew colder as I progressed, my body warning me of the dip in temperature by sharply shivering. I took a moment to stop and pull my coat over my body. I quickly shook the chill from my body. The progression of night would surely bring cold, and it would be an aptly long time before the warmth returned. I would simply walk with whatever nature threw at me. If the temperature wanted to remain chilled, I would keep myself covered. If it were to sharply increase, strange as that would be at this moment in time, I would remove my coat. No change, small or otherwise, would keep me from the secret I was determined to find.  
For a while it was a long line of trees and bushed, ferns and weeds. There was nothing new, nothing oddly placed. Small pebbles started dotting to dirt path - although I had no proof this was intended to be a path at all - and although they were a nice change, they were hardly of interest, but as I moved on, they grew larger. It was surreal, walking with purpose forward and watching as the rocks grew and grew. I knew it was just a trick of the mind, that if I turned around the rocks behind me would still be smaller, but it looked amazing anyways. There was a large spike in the rock size, and there I saw it. It was a third page. I moved to claim it.

 _Don't be afraid of the dark; be afraid of what's in it._

I released a chuckle, not hesitating this time around. I hadn't been afraid of the dark since I was very young, and even then it hadn't been that terrible. I never ran to my parents in blind panic. Instead I would sometimes jump at what was clearly nothing, sharply turn on a light, and search for the unknown. When I found nothing, I would recall my light and give the room back the darkness it truly wanted. I was startled, afraid even, but clearly not terrified. Now, the dark was nothing scary. It was interesting.  
It was becoming clear to me that I - perhaps not me specifically, but someone - was intended to find these strange notes, as random as they appeared to be. The three I had found had all been stuck - by what I don't know - to something fairly out of place, something I hadn't come across before. The strange thin tree, the out of place torch, and the abruptly large rock were all holders of what was a path to something new.  
I quickly stole the note for myself and turned to the right, making to move around the large rock. There was a shudder in the darkness, but I put nothing to it. The moon's light was fading as I progressed and I merely attributed the seeming movement in the darkness to a trick of the eye. I took a few moments as my head shuddered a little and once I regained control, I continued on.  
These pages were clearly important, strange, but important. At this moment in time, nothing mattered to me except finding these pages. I wanted to know how many there were, what they said, and what hidden treasures they would surely lead to. Yes, it seemed as though they were not hinting at anything to be found, but it was merely hidden. Only those who persisted would learn otherwise.  
Taking the hint that these pages would be stuck to the out-of-place, I opted to search for those. I had made my way quite deep into the forest, and while there was a part of me which warned I would surely get lost if I traversed too far, my persistence and the thrill of the unknown held back those warnings and kept me pushing forward. I would be fine.  
I saw a strange shape in the darkness, wrong shape and size to be human, and not moving. It was unlikely to be anything sentient, but I could deny the oddness of it. It appeared to be a jagged half-cylinder jutting out of the ground, and as I drew close enough to see it better, I discovered it was actually part of a tree trunk, except the tree must have collapsed a long time ago, for it was sharply torn into without life above of its own. While I wondered at first who had cleared out the rest of the tree, I quickly stopped caring, for there was a sheet of paper stuck to it.

 _Curiosity killed the cat, my kitten..._

For the first time since I had ventured out here, I felt afraid. It started as a hesitation, but then my heart thumped a little faster. There was no denying it now. These were threats. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what was waiting behind it. Someone had left these here to find - someone who was not too friendly - and I wondered with a shake if they were nearby.  
Was the person who made these still waiting for someone to find them? I was willing to face fear to unearth secrets long hidden, but I had limits. I definitely did not want to die in a desperate struggle to find what may not have even been there. What if there was nothing? At this moment, it had to be at least considered, even if for half a second, that the chance at a treasure might have been a red herring, a lure to guide someone into this trap.  
I faced indirect fears, things that posed no threat, such as darkness, spiders, and the common, non-threatening latter. This was different. This was a threat, and even if abandoned, it was not a gamble I wished to make. I was not one to bet on poor odds - I didn't gamble at all, actually.  
I turned around, opting to leave. I was going to put this forest behind me. I would speak to the townspeople again, show them the notes I did get. Perhaps if I had a way of showing them I had been lured into this, they would be more willing to discuss it with me. If not, at least I found something, anything, even if something I can do nothing with. A find, even pointless, was still a find.  
Except, when I turned around, I found I was not alone. Someone was lurking a far distance behind me. A very tall male stood seemingly motionless, staring my way. My heart gave on me for half a moment, and I felt a chill race down my spine. How long had this person been following me? Had I actually seen something in the darkness? When I had dismissed it was a trick of the eyes, was it really this person?  
There was a sharp pain in the side of my head as I attempted to gaze upon the stranger for too long. I needed to get a good look at him, but I jerked my head to the side as it throbbed harder. When I took my gaze off him, the pain gave way slowly. That couldn't be possible! How could I feel pain just by looking at someone. I attempted to gather myself and turned to look at him again. He had to still be there.  
Yet, when I turned, he was gone. The stranger in the darkness had departed in seemingly complete silence. Still, I didn't feel he was gone. He was still there. I didn't favour meeting him again. I worried these notes were his and he was the one threatening me.  
I could navigate out of here. It couldn't be that difficult. I just had to turn back to trail the scenery again. I could move past the large rock, track down the dim torch, and finally move myself back to the thin tree. If I could find that thin tree, I could leave. I placed a hand on the large rock and navigated around it, sticking close to it like it was a magnet and I was the chunk of metal.  
I had moved only ten or so feet away from the rock when I heard another rustle. While most of me warned against acknowledging it in the slightest, my interest in the unknown caused me to look up. There was another sheet of paper nearby. How many were there? I had already found four. I nervously inched in that direction. The rocks in this direction quickly pushed themselves down to size until they were pebbles of such a tiny nature I could not see them under the dark veil.  
I now spotted several torn ropes dangling from a tree, and from the mess nearby it appeared these ropes had once been used to hold something up. Perhaps someone had attempted to camp here at one point in time - these ropes might have been erected to hold food out of the reach of wild animals - but clearly whoever had made the choice to set camp here had just as quickly opted not to.  
There was a note stuck to the torn rope, held by seemingly nothing, and against my better judgement, I moved towards it. I would grab it and turn back to the rocks.

 _Nightmares can last longer than dreams._

I did not like this in the slightest. I abruptly imagined many people laughing at me as they recalled as the bold bravado I had been so keen to throw at people. I imagined those people seeing the fear in my eyes, the uncertainty in my stance, and ask me what I was so afraid of.I imagined them to stand in front of me, I remind me there was nothing to be afraid of. Those people likely hadn't found notes in a forest threatening them, then found a stranger watching them.  
I turned to head back towards the rock, but when I turned around, I was not alone. Standing behind me, closer then before, was the same strange person who had been following me before, the one who had vanished then I looked away. Looking at him brought pain to me once more, and my vision blurred and my head throbbed as I backed away from him.  
My heart pounded and there was a part of me that refused to look away from the terrible thing I was looking at. This was no normal human being, and in that moment of realization, a new terror was unleashed. I found myself terrified of him before my mind even fully contemplated what I was looking at. With the darkness that veiled him before parted a little more now, I could see why he was not of this world, this plane of existence - or at the very least, he mocked it with his strange nature.  
His skin was as pale as a ghost, white like snow, and stood strong against the pitch black suit he wore. His face was devoid of detail. He seemingly sensed the world without the parts with which to properly sense it. There were no eyes he could use to stare at me, no nose to smell the world around, no mouth with which to share his purpose, and no ears with which to hear my fear. None of these things existed, yet there was something inside of me the claimed he could access all these abilities, as trivial as they may initially seem to humanity, without them.  
When I gazed upon him, I knew true fear, and I turned on my heel to put distance between us. I diverted off my intended path and fled, heart pounding fiercely in my chest as I moved with horror-fueled determination to escape him. I did not want to know what he wanted.  
Eventually my body hissed at me to give it a break and I slowly down to a barely noticeable stroll. A new fear entered my mind as I realized I did not know where I was. The rocks were out of my sight. I had no checked which direction I had run in. I had to find them. I couldn't turn directly around. He would surely be there. I would have to make a large circle, head back, try not to get lost.  
I couldn't do it. With every step a part of me uttered these words again. I found nothing but trees and bushes. I found no rocks, big or small. What I did find, however, was a fully out of place picket fence, which seemed to only stretch for about fifteen feet and was built pointlessly in front of a bunch of bushes. It did not form any shape - it was just a straight line of fence.  
I don't know why at this point, but when I saw the fence had a sixth note stuck to it, I rushed forward to claim it as my own.

 _This game plays you as much as you play it._

I yelped as I noticed the faceless man was now standing in front of me, somehow having gotten past me without me noticing and making his way behind the unexplained fence. Usually, I would have asked why there was a fence out here in the woods and why the fence did not decorate or block anything, but I cared not right now.  
All I cared about right now was this stranger, the stranger who followed me, who appeared everywhere these notes were, who watched without eyes. Every time I looked at him I felt my body and mind weaken more and I couldn't explain why - though I couldn't explain him in general.  
I immediately reacted to his presence. I didn't try to communicate, didn't try to reason. When I saw him, I fled with purpose; I fled without question.  
Except I barely made any progress before I spotted him again, in front of me - and closer - which was not physically possible. There was no way he could have moved quickly enough to get in front of them by this much, standing fully still nonetheless, when his last position was quite a ways behind me. I hadn't even heard him move. He had been standing in a thick of debris. How could he have moved silently?  
I didn't debate this - didn't want to. My conscious mind launched into a frenzied confusion, my gaze spinning in front of me, head smashing so violently it was as though someone was inside me bashing into the side of my head with a hammer. I didn't like - feared - what I couldn't put logic to. The sides of my vision seemed to be covered in what looked like a thin cloud of static.  
When I saw the man once more in front of me, curious as I might have been, my first intent was to turn and run. i made certain to head away from him, to put distance between us. I didn't understand him and I frankly didn't want to. I wanted to be away from him.  
At this point, I had no direction. I just ran, lungs beginning to burn a little. When I saw a large crate with a page stuck to it, I question if this would ever end. How many pages were there? Were they infinite? Why was I still collecting them? It was as though I though collecting all of them - however many there were - would protect me, would keep this thing away. I didn't ask, I grabbed. I read over it, although I don't know why I cared what it said anymore.

 _Why do you run away? I just want you to play._

It seemed almost on cue. As soon as I grabbed the page off the crate, I spotted him once again. He was a ways behind the crate and was a little closer then he had been before. He definitely hadn't been there before. I had seen that spot before I spotted the crate and he had been nowhere near it. It was like he just appeared there by magic. Worse yet, he had changed a little.  
Veering out of his backside were thin and rather vicious tendrils, seething a fine amount of aggression as they lashed angrily, but at seemingly nothing. He definitely hadn't had those before and it made him even more terrifying, an affront to nature, not that he made sense before. Were those tendrils meant to portray a sense of fury? Was I angering him in some way?  
I didn't care. It didn't matter. I wanted away from him, away from his forest, away from these damned notes, however many there may be. I didn't care how many there were anymore. I had seven. It didn't matter - even if it turned out seven was how many there were. Who cared?  
I turned to flee from him and twice I was intercepted. He blocked my path with such acuteness, such precision, moving great distance for the amount of time he had to move them. I felt horrified every time I saw that featureless face, that snow-white skin, and most importantly, those lashing tendrils. I didn't know what they were for and frankly I hoped to never find out. Looking at him was unbearable, and every time I did my vision seemed to fill with unexplained static, my head threatened to crack on its own accord.  
Ahead of me was part of the framework of a building. It was as though someone had started building a small house, decided they didn't like it, started tearing it down, then got bored before finishing - or something else stopped their progress. A page was on a large beam and I moved for it.  
I didn't take it immediately, but first read over it. My hands hesitated at the thought of taking it. Even if this strange thing did opt to stop when I found them all, how would I know how many there were? It seemed every page I found made him angrier. I didn't even know how many there were!

 _Accidents happen to everyone._

I made a move to grab the page, but did not manage to make it. Before my hand could secure the page, something snaked around my arm and promptly turned me around. I had half a second to gaze into his face, as devoid of detail as it was, before the other tendrils wrapped around parts of my body and lifted me up off the ground. I yowled - I barely struggled, overtaken by terror, but I doubted it would have faltered his grip anyways - as the terrifying creature claimed me. Static overtook my gaze; I couldn't see.  
Abruptly, everything went cold and dark. More than it already was.

* * *

 _...The Winged Kestrel has collected 7/8 pages..._


End file.
